Long Waxing Poems
Long Waxing Poems. Below are the most popular long Waxing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Waxing poems by poem length and keyword.
Nestled is the slender twisting trail canyon between timeless steep
aspiring mountains and meditative sopheric sea waters
The frail road deepens into lofty thickness further from the harsh
volcanic valley where passion’s throes are ever in abeyance as days grind
on at a petty pace, as winding cathartic minds strive to be free and leave their
fears of mortal sin, intrusive family— religious dogma dismissive, oppressive
My yearning heart writhes in agonizing prose knowing senses magma
guilt etched into my very core, now behind
I’ll unwind, in a soft bed of sand that awaits
Spring’s strong winds of life call, visible the sea in the
distance, in instance, heads tilt, abut, falling upon my
wooer’s shoulder, he presses gears, downshifts reaching tireless
slate-gray force spreading over ocean floors flooding with no remorse
An uncommon gallantry he displayed, a warrior’s valiant looks
fired up my very essence
A dimming sun immerses into a hesitant horizon, sweeping breezes spin
warm spells embracing an enchanter’s realm,
with its charm he gazed into languid eyes
Silhouettes stark, foreheads bow, touch, sweetened sweat from
jasmine bushes alongside the road, perks of riding the stallion of steel
evoked smiles in sideview mirror, heated rims, spokes spun
Dismount a stroll, toes sank in sand, holding hands dodging driftwood
washed ashore, I chose a serpent shaped, a souvenir!
I’d glue turquoise stone eyes, a keepsake, or an omen?
Zena’s cove of guilty pleasures seal fates, certainly
not rhythmic lapping waves against the shore nor salmon sunset
or a waxing crescent moon, and not the wistful ocean’s teary spray
Its tears wetted my cheeks in afterglows
Lest moonlit sky amongst shy hidden stars
Pangs subside, panic betides, doctrine ridden not from our marrow
Womb’s flower in bloom, a secret kept, an advent arrival
The planets wept, forms beyond birth of celestial bodies,
one existence yet does sin exist in celestial angels?
He held tightly, softly whispered let’s run away,
his proposal on adulthood’s precarious cusp,
bestowed him a refusal, sweet youth ruins
Alas and alack life proceeds
steady as ebb and flow of the tides
After a precious gem she’s named, sweet lord
never more blissful, daughter
Caressed are tranquil ocean waves
“Phoenix Dreams in the Realm of Crows”
wake up
shake up
kaleidoscope girl
jigsaw
see saw
fit the pieces
she
another world
away
the in-betweeen
flows easily
through the veil
safe harbour
opening
portals
for ocean steering
curious kaleidoscope
stories to sew
the slip stitch
love knot cast
anchor’s raised
time’s racing
discharge fear
or remain
feathers spreading
in the realm
of crows
poetic
messengers
casting their spells
for opening
tombs turning
dead leaves to tomes
in the crowded hideaway
where shorthand, fixed tight to masts,
swings suspended for transcribing
dark nights,
where soft and fierce
treasure dwells
feathers spreading
cunning cuneiform for ghosts
who speak in tongues
transformative
strange letters
unfurling
spreading
deep indigo and
jesserant jet feathers
swords and keys
for plundering
and opening
impromptu places
mysterious better nests
for hidden golden eggs
broken yoked,
freed
spilling silver spoons,
curl love drunk
into warm skinned
velvet embryos
hugging new bodies
of work, slick palaces
for bedding
better never-endings
never ending,
electric muses
flocked
and kissing
sated singing
dreams
in the realm
of crows
the in-betweeen
flows easily
through the veil
safe harbour
opening
portals
for ocean steering
bejewelled St Elmo
phoenix fire stories lit, to sew
the slip stitch
love knot cast
anchor’s raised
astral charting
glossy winged stars
albatross angels
waxing lyrical
follies and flights
ignited, illuminating
phoenix dreams
in the realm
of crows
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Hideaway”/ Queens of the Stone Age
https://youtu.be/2dcbcic06vw
"Let It Happen" / Tame Impala
https://youtu.be/NMRhx71bGo4
"Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control"/Tame Impala
https://youtu.be/C1VelTQ3hdY
Crow Symbolism
https://www.onthefeeder.com/crow-symbolism/
LYRICS/ “Hideaway”, Queens of the Stone Age
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/queensofthestoneage/hideaway.html
LYRICS/"Let It Happen", Tame Impala
https://genius.com/Tame-impala-let-it-happen-lyrics
Where's this years "Turkey_Pardon"?
Pardon me, where's the pardon on the Family?
Was the CCP funding too lucrative, Universities?
Any press briefing, explanations,
the WEF financial mechanisms
too carotid in artery.
I guess hunting season is still on,
"Runningman" repeats.
still a filler for
Commercial Broadcasting Disservice,
regularly scheduled reprogramming, propagandizing.
Meanwhile we are in Psalms 83 and Ezekial 38,
looming. .. 3 8 3 8 3 3..
I wonder what it means?
Too bad for that one potential lime-lighted Turkey.
Judgment is coming too Humanity.
Makes one seem crazy to report these days.
In perpetuity. One thing after another
and all against the People. For the leaders, a totally separate reality.
Why are they not arrested and questioned
by the People?
Is it because they polarized us against each other,
so that they are not the objects of scrutiny.
Maybe they will throw us a bone or a stick next,
to keep us occupied.
The question is, would it be laced with Fentanyl
or biologicals from an unsecured Chinese Lab here in America?
Or will it be one of those costly imports
maybe shipped from our Southern crosswalk.
Hey at least this year there is no ban on Church, gatherings,
as our leaders again gather mask free
with saline booster shots instead of what
is mandated for you and me.
Knowing that the vaccine was untested
(for Public transparency),
and Pfizer the only ones given immunity.
For aiding crimes against humanity, no apologies.
[Yeah, I can remember students dropping dead
on the sports field happening all the time
growing up (Saturday morning football death before
cartoons was a regular thing).
Who knew also that veins
are supposed to have long black graphene
induced clots, and young people to
die of heart attack and stroke at age 13.
Although, on a happier note,
2024 is a fresh year, for slavery.
It's Springtime eclipse a warning of disasters incoming,
vote casting,
ill Confederacy, Rhinoplasty, !CONSPIRACY!
reciting an x across the Country with 2017's.
Cancelling freedoms, Christians
and the World as we knew it to be.
Planet X mirrored,
icing, a crystal clear reveal i
n chaos waxing a seal of unmasking
our present real judgment, reality.
Who were you today,
at your best moments?
Grouchy hermit
already missing quality dream times
and rhythms
when chimes greet pre-light's crust frosty dawn,
to get Yang, then Yin, up and out of our sangha,
ready to enter their own daytime sanghas,
tired drama of such anciently perennial retired,
repeat,
reiterate,
Monday through Friday.
Notice
red coal scale patterns
in blackened ash logs,
burning to fluffy carbon chalk,
nutrient potential for some soils,
although not mine,
perhaps my neighbor's?
Joy
for a bright, although admittedly too intermittent, sun,
sliding in and out of hiding.
A smile,
where one would otherwise have been sadly absent.
Cold
feeling Arctic on my ears and neck
and nose
and onward through
toward my aching bone marrow,
near my well-heated
and brightly lit
domestic non-destination.
Ellen Fisher on NPR saying
"No one gets out of love alive."
with so much enthusiasm and passion
for regenerative feelings and empathic maturing capacity
to manage anger's ego-offense
with a strong remembering love's co-opportunity defense
against high risk anthro-entitled,
narcissistic ego-bratty behavior.
Gratitude
for Yin political and economic cooperative investments
seeking Earth harmonic balance.
Terror
of untimely taxing rest as grace,
of older-wiser intent
without time to hear Earth's glamorous response,
to new found mutually speaking freely parts
and songs of dancing glances
Eagerly lifting
blue tarp skirt
of my elegantly stacked woodpile,
seducing me with more hard fuel
for erotic clandestine fires.
Feeling PoisonYang feeding on my trinitarian blind
and bald spot,
sucking in any embodied nutrients she might hope to find
within such great grand fatherly care,
laughing together
at just how silly we appear
even to our wu-wei selves,
together better
than apart
Still mind embodied fullness
content contention in this narrow midway
modestly chasing Gods of True Love reborn
Resisting insisting
long-married Gods and Goddesses of Angry Past Deductions
fueling Fear of Future's Inductive Reduction
dualdark disfunction
Confluent inhumane demise
sinking unease
singing ease
to full mooned
yin-hibernating
yang-hypernation
waning waxing sways.
Virtual trophies (wife for I)...
offered, husbanded, and collected
when winning solitaire
Nothing beats that exaltant rush of adrenaline
watching the computer generated cards
automatically routed
to their respective suite (spot)
(after they get turned face value up)
generates countenance to evince a grin.
This heart felt diamond in the rough
gamboling ace of a man
learned to call a spade a spade
soon after joining the culture club.
Within an alternate universe
another Matthew Scott Harris
destiny manifested beckoned uber lyft,
his militant doppelganger
(created entirely of antimatter
since birth of universe)
decked out in camouflage fatigues,
dead set on collision course
to annihilate each other
if and/or when we inevitably meet.
No place exists for yours truly
to run and hide
especially hermetically sealing
(while waxing poetic) himself
with booking selfsame mortal
within a read (reed) out hideaway,
hence impossible mission
to ward off sealed fate
lest (markedly) both of us
(even if reaching out
to bridge reconciliation)
blown to smithereens
methinks I and mine nemesis
would be wiped out
(cue the Surfaris song titled wipe out)
as if Thanos snapped.
The aforementioned scenario
far more horrifying than
livingsocial within human zoo
where *****sapiens primates,
an aggregate of many
a cruel genealogical yahoo
outliers rowdy unlearned without xue,
an essential constituent
of the body electric kool aid acid test
smartass who spout colorful retorts
analogous to up the wazoo,
but much more explicit,
therefore audiological
viewer discretion advised
unless one feels confident
to cast a magic spell using voodoo
ideally invoking debilitating, horrifying,
lustrating newt trill eye zing
permanent state of danger
or threat accursed
trumpeting lout can never undo
especially when joker is wild
whereat apparatus tricked out
fastening pollexes courtesy thumbscrews
perchance re-evaluating my person
when crafting image
conveying torturous schlock
after ye did pleasantly review
other writings of mine that did skews
toward humanitarian connectedness
painstakingly minding my peas and queues
wracking my brain
regarding creativity to peruse.
"The Syballine"
Behind closed eyelids
the curtains of the mind
open to silent applause
Sun screens are slick and applied
shining bright Ultra Violet
a violent Light
all over a body
of work, unseen
words written
tattooed black
on smooth satin alabaster
beneath piercing opalescent lasers
frosty green
burning the tithed pages
of a rosy crucifixion
cast aside, palms raised
and speaking in secret tongues
whispering necromantic Psalms
fed open-handed to wailing seabirds
carrying songs of majesty
slow winged, powerful and heavy
towards a pregnant
waxing beguiling witches'
Black Sabbath moon
this doesn’t stop the burn
bare legs stretch open
a story being born
and somewhere
magnetised
nude feet
walk towards
the naked
Syballine
standing still
within the shallow
fire opal ocean
arms lifting
conjuring new powers
not humble,
in fierce supplication
raised upwards
now to pearly clouds
there beneath the
Too Soon,
a dawning golden orb,
stands Blue Sky
holding the Sun
her back
is turned
see the spine
fine boned
joints like a ladder
your fingers
like lightening
trace their course
silky seduction
they play her
tight strung
held in your arms
caressed like a cello
bow steaming
her keys turned
ignition
forgotten kisses
carried on the
slender shoulders
of life -
now see
the Sun rising
lips ripe
heart bleeding
black wings unfolding
fallen, no longer disguising
she turns
Journeying from the Deep
Expelled from the shallows
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
"And no one sings me lullabies
And no one makes me close my eyes
So I throw the windows wide
And call to you across the sky"
"And no one showed us to the land
And no one knows the where's or why's
But something stirs and something tries
And starts to climb towards the light"
"Overhead the albatross
Hangs motionless upon the air
And deep beneath the rolling waves
In labyrinths of coral caves
An echo of a distant time
Comes willowing across the sand
And everything is green and submarine..."
I have this strange feelings twirling in my stomach since yesterday and it will not go away, it is not a feeling of pain, it’s not a feeling of shame or guilt, it is the feeling you get when someone has taken your heart away. You know the one that young lovers get when they fall in love for the first time and don’t have a dime? It is not quite like that but almost like that. It feels like something is literally twirling in my stomach, I am not sure if it is butterfly or middle age crisis.
I was supposed to be going places, soaking in hot springs and enjoying fine beaches. I was supposed to be going places, skiing on the slopes, and holding on to the ropes, climbing branded mountains and spending the night in the wooded cabins piled up with snow around me with a little fire place to warm my hands and feet while sipping hot chocolates from my brand name mug.
But here I am in this place stuck for four long years suffocating from the stanch coming from the toilet pit hardheaded children screaming from the top of their voices, stirring my bones and sinews, great god, I have to start my life anew.
I grip firmly to my pride listening to the commotion around me and the cars racing up and down the alley, the music box shouts from across the street while the night fades slowly before me and embracing daylight in front of me. The birds start swirling in the restless sky looking for the early morning goodbye.
I walked along the road and looked at their faces soaked with anxiety and parched variety; the waxing moon hinges its burden to the sky and watches the people as they go by. Plunging into precipice and drowning in waterfalls. I watch the lines moving around the bend; parallel lines, straight line, zigzag lines, curved lines and horizontal lines that one can walk on. I followed the diagonal line to the end looking for a new friend but the butterfly kept twirling in my stomach and I feel like throwing up.
Change the plot or many more will rot, change the plot and get the people out of the rock, change the plot and get me back on track. Change the plot so that I can wear a brand new frock. Change the plot to end the shock. Change the plot and raise your glasses.
Is it my Nigeria that has failed
us or our honourable leaders?
Nigeria is just a carved name
Not a hen that protect her chicks.
Look not at me with a watery eyes,
I speak of truth not lie, Nigeria has
Not in anyway failed us but you and
I have failed ourselves with greed.
I have nothing to offer you all now,
I have nothing to give but sweet tears
And bitter blood that irritate cup.
We have gone mad again and again!
We have gone out of hand again!
Not my Nigeria that has failed us,
Not my Mother that has gone mad!
Listen to me all runners of accusation fingers,
Not only in my anus that has a hole to dip,
The birth of death has not be proven here.
My mother is great but you are the chameleon;
Chameleon-ing colours into your shade!
Listen to me holy one of the city of illusion,
My Nigeria has not failed us but we failed
Ourselves.
Infant the market envies my mother's opulence,
She is not the cause of the church miscarrages!
Not my Nigeria that failed us as you think.
I have told them how the foreigners queue here
And there for my Mother to bless them.
Her tender fingers have long be blessed to
Guide those who look upto her in hope.
Not our Nigeria that has failed us roughly,
Not my Nigeria that has failed me and you!
We failed ourselves because Nigeria is a name,
Greed made our heart her home to ruin us all,
We are selfish and callous to our brothers,
Our blood were hotter than the fierce fire.
Gracefully mother stand among the great Nations,
Waxing stronger in every hole deeper than her,
Her coasts are blessed with a savored honey,
Her shores glamour and glow in appreciation.
Oh mother Nigeria can not fail us but we did!
Stop speaking of my Mother as an evil woman,
Stop, I said stop talking about my mother like that.
As a hungry man devour food on the table,
Nigeria has not eaten anyone like that, yes!
As the maggots feast on casket, my Mother
Has not tasted any casket of souls before.
Triplets she conceive always like the Hebrews,
Not my Nigeria that has failed us but you did.
-----Another Voice Stronger
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
.A
Single
Sequoia
Firm and tall
Feeds on the love
And kindnesses
Of other nature lovers
Was supported, cultivated
Becoming a tower against the horizon
Waxing green leaves, which it deposits later as gifts,
Among the earth dwellers, it embraced all under its canopy
Time passed and with it grew wisdom and purity of thought
Soon; sweet songs were sung by the tree dwellers, nourishing it abundantly
It was fruitful in return, gladly sharing all its color and splendor with other nature
Suddenly an alto fell in with the soprano pitched songbirds, distracting it immensely
The alto pecked, vibrating the core, with its obsidian bill, drilling, forever drumming,
Night and day, night and day, a steady pecking, of a woodpecker
Singing in a foreign soup song language
Not caring
Whatsoever
That it drained
The tree’s spirit
Trying to shoo it,
The tree branched.
Feverishly it tossed,
Left to right, beating.
Dropping all its fauna
Onto the forest floor.
TENSED ACKNOWLEDGEMNT
To mother, my photocopy
To mother's love so high
To her undying feelings
My image maker in the eve of
My waxing re-refinement
Things will never be left unsaid
Words will never be left untouched
But reasons be kept in my mind to love
She bred me in mountain to redefine the
Image of my root
Hear me mother, i cometh forth
In me lies faith and drive so
Pure to redirect light to shine
Among those black hearts that lives down the valley .
To father's brave spirit that materialized my image
My carbon copy, my second god
The smiles of my soul in the new moon
My heart of thanks rest not until
Those tears will be shade in my present for joy
I have brought from abroad
Hear me daddy. i curse not the day you
Welcomed me to your wonderful home
Like a rose, i will spring forth, erect
smile to the beautiful moon, look at the
Sun in the face for not in me was fear made
Not in me was hatred bred.
I cometh forth to redeem and bring light.
To sister, the bravest of all
When the circumstances was tensed
You stood firmly behind me in unity against
All odds to see me through.
Those funny stupid move of searching for the
Faded identity of which i was made
You recreate my being and gave me reasons to break
Forth the stories of unattained dreams
showered me love in hatred
here i come in peace.
To brother, the handsome of all
To his most intelligent moves
Am almost there Ugomsinachi
I am becoming a great novelist and poet.
Words unsaid hurt a lot in heart
The sky knows my worth, the moon smiles to ease my pains
The air, sun and grasses are never asleep.
As i have thought in recent years
I will be coming home
Coming for my dream wife to reign.
Say me well for i write not for the craving night
To see the day in this world of agony
To Madam Moses, i love, she bred the Hero in me
To MRs Esther, i deserve, she kissed awAy my pains
To mr Uche, he made the light
I forget not the erudite viewers and writers
Who cheered me always at the contest
Never get tired, i am coming for the prize
is not all alone.
(c) JOHN CHIZOBA VINCENT